2013 April PAD Challenge: Day 29

After today, there’s just tomorrow. How did we get through April so fast?

For today’s prompt, take a line from one of your poems (preferably one of your April poems), make it the title of your poem today, and then, write the poem.

Here’s my attempt:

“unseen until after they’re spent”

moments without any longing
erase the hours but don’t make
anything better less lonesome

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Workshop Your Poetry!

Writing poetry is exciting, but the hard work of poeming is working through the revision process. The best way to work through this process is to workshop the poems with other poets, and that can be done with the Writer’s Digest 6-week course, Advanced Poetry Writing.

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Want some more poeming fun? Check out these previous Poetic Asides posts:

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206 thoughts on “2013 April PAD Challenge: Day 29

  1. foodpoet

    We dream dance
    our troubles away
    drift in a daze
    Waiting reality reef

    In dream, we escape
    the day, memory loss
    coping with routine
    your ever blank glance
    no longer seeing our faces.
    We watch your daily trance,
    where nothing changes
    no new ideas emerge.
    Each shattered thought a lance
    and we dream dance.

    Troubles multiply
    compounded by the math impaired daughter
    coping with taxes and beyond
    each number each figure weigh
    heavy on my mind as I struggle
    to keep your finances from going astray.
    I look at my unbalanced check book and life,
    throw up my hands
    and watch my hair going gray
    keeping troubles away.

    I wish I could escape
    dream a little for me
    must one down day,
    watch your eyes glaze
    and watch another nothing day.
    Know that this is an eroding phase.
    That the memories of today
    will be the last leaf falling
    deeper into a mind maze
    as we drift in a daze.

    Together we are locked
    mind of youth
    mind of age
    linked for a rare brief
    connected thought and then
    it shatters again, thought leaf
    falling again to the autumn disease.
    Trees of your mind are shorn,
    stolen by time thief
    and I wait reality reef.

  2. Glory

    Only Yesterday

    Was it yesterday?
    I saw the light
    within your eyes
    slowly dim
    until it died.

    No words spoken,
    a silent heart
    sucked dry,
    for love itself
    that day did die.

  3. cstewart

    The Power of That Spell

    The one you attempted to cast on me,
    Was a trine of indefinite power.
    I escaped only with my innocence,
    And a fragrant, blue aura of violets.

  4. Linda Voit

    What If She Couldn’t Find The Broom

    The gravity depends entirely
    on whether said broom
    was needed for crumbs under the table
    in the late morning of a June day
    or for transportation
    at eight in the evening
    on October thirty first.

  5. Lindy

    Five minutes too old

    Chartreuse flowers on the hill,
    swimming in the meadow swill,
    into this my blood stood still…
    like winter’s chill
    5 minutes too old.

    The dancing of the sun’s delights,
    pictures tall behind the nights,
    deception lies before her sights…
    and she still writes
    5 minutes too old.

    Serenade me till I sleep,
    the moon shall hold me in it’s keep,
    and if perchance I dream too deep…
    Just let them weep
    5 minutes too old.

    The air has grown a bitter cold,
    with beauty’s stories left untold,
    there’s more to find in any fold…
    Life to hold
    5 minutes too old.

  6. drwasy

    the asparagus are late

    this year. so are the lilac
    and narcissi, the wisteria
    curling purple clusters
    over my porch railing,
    the rhubarb buried deep
    in frosted earth.

    but the asparagus!
    my barometer of spring,
    my hope for end
    of winter’s bitter dark.

    each morn I rush through
    grass dew-wet to inspect
    earth cracked, the primordial
    stones belching forth
    to make room for slim
    spears of mauve and green
    but only garlic weed stinks
    the air, dandelion chokes
    the earth’s furrows.

    this worries me.
    the asparagus are late
    this year.

  7. shethra77

    The first line is from the Express poem of April Challenge Day 17.

    I am a beast that runs

    but some run farther, faster.
    I run in circles of convention
    in the bright light of the early hour.
    Sun blinds my eyes, nose points down the road,
    feet turn where?
    No, that’s from whence I came–
    that’s where I was. I say let’s fly, let’s swim
    somewhere, anywhere new. Another place with different dawns,
    where herds of clouds stampede across the valleys,
    where pebbled beaches fling their rocky arms out and embrace the ocean.
    Here I am.

    I am a beast that runs
    on the inside
    ever yearning, on the inside
    ever striving.
    Odysseus had nothing on me.
    He traveled and battled across the far-flingen regions of Greece.
    Coming home killed him—home,
    where Penelope had had to stay.
    Penelope, the good wife who remained home.
    What if she, too, were the beast?

    Maybe she was. Strongest woman on Earth, married to a
    man who learned to live only away–
    only far away. He learned in twenty years
    how to survive
    running.
    But she was stronger—twenty years waiting,
    running in place.

    That’s what I do.
    I run in the place where I am.
    I am a beast that runs.

  8. Deri

    I had a hard time picking one line, so I went one further and also incorporated a line from a previous poem into each stanza

    All The Pretty Girls

    In Sunday dresses
    unconsciously
    flirting with the
    soft movement of the
    velveteen curves
    of their shoulders

    Never apart,
    they glance at you
    from under the
    fanned fringes
    of kohl blackened
    eyelashes

    nodding in
    silent acquiescence,
    too loud
    laughter tinkling
    in the noon day sun

    You notice how
    they linger,
    their feet dragging
    across the wet grass
    pulling at every sucking step

    You long to
    for more, to fight
    for their attention
    unaware how it’s
    all an act
    how every night is
    spent fighting off the
    ghosts crouching in the dark

  9. omavi

    “Just an autonomous reaction”

    This was not scripted
    Not even expected
    Wasn’t conceived in a torrents of thoughts
    Just an uncontrollable motion
    Just an errant reaction

    It just happened

    Wasn’t looking or searching
    The dreams was on pause
    The feeling long numb

    You can’t always choose
    The moment love is found

  10. THEGingerSass

    “Into the Statue of Liberty’s torch”
    -KB

    Sometimes I imagine
    what life would be like
    if I had decided to leave home
    apply and go to NYU
    lead a life of sophistication
    become what I dared
    to dream of becoming
    instead of pursuing the path
    of safety
    and defining my own dreams
    and discovering new destinies
    within my reach.
    Nonetheless,
    I still have the potential
    to leap–
    no, soar–
    into the stars,
    nestled into the city skyline
    amongst the flames of
    Lady Liberty’s torch.

    1. PressOn

      Very nice imagery here.Makes me think of Emma Lazarus’s line about the lamp lifted beside the golden door, illuminating the possibilities beyond one’s reach.

  11. P.A. Beyer

    Sandy saw the zeroes

    All that watching TLC finally paid off
    When she saw the store clerk’s eyes rise
    Who has time for diamonds when
    Coupons are a poor girl’s best friend
    The bags of fruit, veggies and seven
    Mayonnaise jars didn’t cost a dime
    Her smile was more of a shit eatin’ kind
    Sandy loves and hates like a popcorn kernel
    Spending her free time counting bristles on the ground
    Except for when she runs out of sugar for her coffee
    Then watch out world, this gal’s got the power
    To level more than just a playing field
    But no worries today, today is a good day
    The sugar was on sale, with a double back guarantee
    She’ll have no problem adding an extra teaspoon
    To her cracked “Best Mom in the World” mug of Nescafe

  12. Sara McNulty

    Pretty Boy, They Called Him

    Dimpled cheeks, skin of peach
    he was their darling
    baby boy

    Neighbors oohed and ahed,
    cooed in his ear,
    so sweet, so sweet

    Pretty Boy started school,
    teacher’s pet on his first day,
    he learned to play

    Pretty Boy made a leap;
    manhood stole the child.
    How egotistical, they cried.

    Poetic Asides
    April Challenge – Day 29
    Take a line from an April poem, make it the title,
    and then write the poem.

  13. Marie Elena

    A MOMENT IN YOUR SKIN

    I feel like I been rode hard and hung up dry.
    Sumpin’ gotta give.

    I’m fixin’ to go to church agin.
    The one what got me some clothes
    Fer free
    ‘n a crib fer baby Hollis.
    Them folks is real nice.
    Reeeel nice.

    Pastor Dave was real proud’a me too.
    I tole him I ain’t turned a trick in a week.

    I’m proud of my own self, too.
    But I ain’t fer sher how long I can be holdin’ out.
    I mean — I ain’t above my raisin’,
    After all.

    (“A moment in your skin” from April 8th.)

  14. JRSimmang

    This isn’t a poem, but I just want to express my admiration and amazement at all of talent. It certainly is incredible that we have so many poets who are able to turn a simple prompt into pure genius. This has been a fun NaPoWriMo so far.

  15. JRSimmang

    My Flesh is Your Flesh Refined

    Old man,
    sitting in your chair
    stuffed into your corner
    sifting the cold whiskey
    and colder ice
    into your bearded face,
    you are me

    I see in your hands
    the line that made me
    and the line that forever
    rest in yours,
    curled around a
    forgotten memory,
    stagnated in a cool pond
    and allowed to float.

    It is in this spot, you and
    I shall remain at odds,
    housed under the same roof
    that conjoined us.

  16. tunesmiff

    THE STARS ARE JUST BEYOND OUR REACH
    ——————————————————————-
    We have our dreams,
    We have our plans;
    We can almost hold them
    In our hands.
    And yet they run through our fingers
    Like sand on the beach.
    The stars are just
    Beyond our reach.

    If I could jump
    To grab just one,
    The fabric of the universe
    Would come undone.
    Maybe it’s best
    They’re where they are;
    Beyond our reach
    Is the closet star.

  17. bxpoetlover

    From my poem, “Posts”

    Had to twist them

    Had to twist them
    words like light bulbs
    As I tried to make them see
    the fears, the hope, the love
    that swirl inside of me.

  18. tonijoell

    The Secrets I Told You

    I want
    them to gut you,
    leave you hollow – aching…
    to unfurl inside you like two
    dark wings
    and unravel your fragile seams.
    I want you festering
    like an old wound—
    like me.

  19. dextrousdigits

    I get tired of the echo’s from the past

    The persistent drumming, drumming
    The reverberations vibrating through me
    Slamming me
    Screaming at me

    Then that persistent whisper
    “You can do better”
    “It’s not enough”
    “Try harder”

    You can do bet ter, you can do bet ter
    It is not e nough, it is not e nough
    Try har der, try har der
    The chant echos, echos, echos, echos

    Drumming, drumming
    Pounding, pounding
    The reverberation from the past slamming me
    Echos screaming “NOT ENOUGH”

  20. Linda Rhinehart Neas

    “End of Story”

    Or is it?
    Legendary –
    that’s what they were.
    Two mismatched souls
    united by soft jazz and
    smoky conversations
    that lasted over 50 years
    leaving behind those
    who reflect their love
    magnifying what was
    into what is now –
    making the story
    never-ending!

  21. carolecole66

    You Think It’s Going To Be a Simple Walk

    When you start off at midnight just to walk down the block
    before tuning in, you think that it will be a simple walk.
    You wear night clothes and flip flops planning to unwind,
    breathe the heavy humid air, and maybe hear
    the barred owl that often hunts along the creek.
    But then the jerk throws a beer bottle out his truck
    window. It shatters at your feet and you stand stunned
    wondering what you had done to trigger such rage.
    Was it the torn t-shirt and lack of underwear? Did you
    offend his fashion sense? The glass sparkles at your feet
    under the street light and you suddenly feel like running
    straight into the universe, into that black hole that hums
    57 octaves below middle C, just as the Hindus always knew.
    And you think, in your outrage, you just might hear it
    as it blows through your head, slamming out thoughts
    of vengeance leaving clear, sweet harmony and the echoing call
    of a predatory owl, hunting along the creek.

  22. vsbryant1

    Before I Knew You, Life Was Uncertain

    Before I knew you, life was uncertain
    pain was everyday, life was completely grey
    Before I knew you, life was uncertain
    darkness surrounded me, terror was my life
    Before I knew you, life was uncertain
    confusion plagued me, the struggle engulfed my soul
    Before i knew you,life was uncertain
    I didn’t truly know what love was, not until the day I met you
    Before I knew you, life was uncertain
    day after day, night after night, minute after minute, second after second
    Before i knew you, life was uncertain
    now that I have you life is definitely a blessing.

  23. Sondie

    From the only poem I’ve written this year based on the mechanical prompt: the line- direction to nowhere

    Direction to Nowhere

    As soon as the words “I’m going to the store” are loosed from my lips
    I turn into a volcano with great rumbles of swirling lava
    churning beneath my surface.

    Where I want to go is far away.

    Maybe the coast to a seaside shanty on a remote stretch of beach
    where only long time locals live and I will
    become one of them.

    Maybe the mountains to a cottage hidden in the valley below
    with great oaks to shelter me
    from life’s storms.

    Where I go is nowhere I want to be.

  24. Julieann

    Fear Makes the Possible Impossible
    (another shadorma)

    Love, afraid
    To accept it, to
    Long for its
    Sweet embrace
    Past hurts hinder future love
    Hurdles thrive on fear

  25. BDP

    “Outside the Institute, a New Painting”

    Big Sandburg shoulders–husky, brawling–bowed
    by post-modern. Freight-handler tracks are now
    a plaza where two jumbo glass-block screens
    project Chicago faces. Friendly mouths

    spew water. Nothing fearsome, ugly, prayer
    inducing: gargoyles celebrate good cheer,
    with children splashing in cascading wet
    that’s chlorinated. This new downtown’s lean.

    The sunrise towels steam from mirrored panes
    and buildings bench press sky with steel-beam strength.
    Worn seams are better hidden: suit-tie men
    flock gem-stoned walks, no painted women lure

    fresh farm boys. Parkside daisies wear thick lashes.
    Would Chi-city’s poet call tech hunger his?

    The title comes from the first line of the second stanza of a WD April poem I wrote concerning Grant Wood’s “American Gothic” in the Art Institute of Chicago. This poem borrows a few images from one of Carl Sandburg’s most famous poems, “Chicago.”

    B Peters

  26. Bruce Niedt

    Okay Robert, I took your challenge a step further: Both the title and the poem itself are composed of lines from my poems from this month. In other words, I wrote a cento, using lines from twenty of my April poems (including the title).

    How Complex You Are

    Okay,
    I’ll tell you unequivocally,
    Nature: I love and hate you.
    I’m dopey enough to tell you how I feel.
    We’ve breezed through laughter,
    slogged through tears,
    promises, engagements, hearts,
    casting aspersions, doubts, accusations
    when you betrayed me. Still I held back rain.

    Pessimism loves a vacuum.
    The ants are in the peonies again.
    Ghost-faced owl dives, curls talons.
    Please keep your wrath at bay –
    we can’t let the dark possibles dictate us.

    Sun plus warm equals melt –
    then take a walk, admire daffodils.
    Let’s go on a holiday to the borderline.
    Our bodies respond with madness,
    like a town crier on Doomsday,
    lips puffed beyond the natural ,
    with fireworks of purple.

  27. burrhead

    I get jealous when you laugh

    Across the town square
    I hear you laughing
    If I was paranoid (like they say I am)
    I would assume
    you know I can hear

    You must know
    I am in the vicinity
    And you laugh to let me know
    You still find people amusing
    Just not me

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